"Cut that!"
"P.S., I mean," George amended hastily. "Why didn't you ever tell me you was Jeffries's sparrin' partner?"
"I'm not and never was, and furthermore I didn't hit you," replied P. Sybarite. "All I did was to let you fall over my foot and bump your head on the floor. You're a clumsy brute, you know, George, and if you tried it another time you might dent that dome of yours. Better accept my offer and be friends."
"Never call you Per—"
"Don't say it!"
"Oh, all right—all right," George agreed plaintively. "And if I promise, I'm in on that theatre party?"
"That's my offer."
"It's hard," George sighed regretfully—"damn' hard. But whatever you say goes. I'll keep your secret."
"Good!" P. Sybarite extended one of his small, delicately modelled hands. "Shake," said he, smiling wistfully.